


Under my Umbrella

by doublejoint



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: KNBxNBA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 05:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Tatsuya’s not sure he owned an umbrella as a child.





	Under my Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> for dw user hilaryfun. prompt was the chorus of 'umbrella'

Tatsuya’s not sure he owned an umbrella as a child. The few times a year it would rain in LA, he’d go out in it and let it soak his skin, play basketball and let the ball slide slippery off his fingers, a new hazard to overcome when he still couldn’t do a hook shot or even a consistent jumper. Or he’d stay in, with Taiga, watch a movie on Taiga’s dad’s huge plush leather couch where they’d sink in deep, and try to stay out of the way of Taiga’s nosy nanny (easy in a large house, especially when they’d go upstairs and close the door, whisper when they weren’t saying anything important or anything that was really a secret). 

He bought a few in Akita, all of them torn apart by the wind eventually, and only slightly effective at keeping the snow and rain off of him, the last left behind, handed to an underclassman. He’s ended up buying a few since then, all of them somewhere in the miniscule coat closet in his New York apartment. He never packs them on road trips; it’s not something he thinks about. He’s got a water-resistant coat, usually, but not on this trip to Chicago, just a couple of sweaters and the suit jackets even he isn’t about to wear uncovered in this rain.

Spring and fall in New York are not dissimilar to Akita, full of rain and days that expand and contract like telephoto camera lenses until they’re unrecognizable as the same, wet leaves plastered to the ground, no satisfying movie potato-chip crunch under your feet. It’s like that in Chicago, too, a little sharper, a little bit more--but that’s just what Tatsuya’s seen of it, bits and flashes pieced together from away games and the odd weekend layover and whenever the weather comes up in his texts and calls with Taiga.

At least he doesn’t have to drive in it. He’s never been great at driving in the rain. He could take a cab from the hotel, but Taiga’s place is walkable, and he’d rather get the fresh air, even if it comes with getting soaked. Taiga has a shower.

He doesn’t look terribly shocked to see Tatsuya drenched, just sighs at him and sidesteps his hug.

“Go take a shower.”

“You can join me.”

Taiga sighs, from deep in his chest, like he’s considering it but this is a game day and he probably should have started his nap ten minutes ago (and, yeah, that’s Tatsuya’s fault for getting lost again, but it’s hard when the streets aren’t numbered). 

“I’m sorry,” says Tatsuya.

Taiga waves him off, pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. His hand is warm through Tatsuya’s soaked t-shirt and sweater, warmer than the heated bathroom floor feels on Tatsuya’s feet. The feeling only fades when the warm water’s been soaking into his skin for a few minutes, when the tingling in his toes has subsided and he’s cleaned himself off. It’s a waste of water to just stand under the showerhead after he's clean, disgusting and decadent. Tatsuya does it anyway; he can just add that onto the end of the long list of things he feels guilty about.

He dries off and makes his way into the bedroom; Taiga’s sound asleep already, sleeves of his waffle-knit shirt pulled over the bottoms of his palms, almost up to where his thumb begins. He doesn’t stir when Tatsuya folds himself under the sheets beside him.

* * *

They sleep through the first three alarms, until Tatsuya gets a proper look at the time displayed on his phone and forces himself up into a sitting position. He yawns, smoothing his hair down; the rain outside has stopped but the sky is still a dark, murky grey, the color of river water in old black and white movies. Taiga rolls over, burying his face in Tatsuya’s leg. He doesn’t have to be at the arena until after Tatsuya does; he can sleep a little longer. 

He yawns, mouth still up against Tatsuya’s leg. Tatsuya ruffles Taiga’s hair, then smooths it down again. It’s getting long, but it’s not too bad a look on him. 

“Coffee?”

“Yeah,” Taiga says. 

He drapes his arm over Tatsuya’s lap, though, and Tatsuya doesn’t have the heart to lift it off right away. But somehow fifteen minutes have passed since the last alarm, and if he doesn’t get to making the coffee soon he won’t be able to drink it. And he still has to get dressed (no way his clothes are dry, though he’s probably left some clothes around here somewhere). 

He can’t be late, but he can cut it close, meet his teammates out in front of the hotel. Take a cab if he has to. 

He’d left the drawer open when he’d found a shirt to sleep in; there’s nothing of his in there but there’s a pair of his jeans in the next one--he needs a suit, though; his sleep-addled brain hadn’t even been thinking about the part of his job that feels like actual work, wearing a suit and getting photographed and talking to people. So he’s got to get back and change, and the chances of him being here when the coffee’s done have gone from high-nineties to none. 

“I’m sorry,” Tatsuya says. “I have to go.”

Taiga pushes himself up, swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll come with you.”

He pulls on his jeans, buckling his belt as he makes his way over to the dresser to find two pairs of socks. 

“There’s a cafe down the street; it’s usually not too crowded. If you have time.”

“Yeah,” says Tatsuya. 

He doesn’t borrow a raincoat, but takes one of the hoodies Taiga never wears but somehow has frayed sleeves already--Taiga does, after all, have a golf umbrella from some charity tournament (not that the weather is appropriate right now, but Taiga looks damn good in a visor and a golf glove, hitting the ball far if not in the right direction, crouching down like a pro on TV except he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing). It’s big enough for both of them to fit under, even while drinking coffee from their to-go cups, big enough for Taiga to use it as a shield when they duck under the scaffolding by the hotel and give Tatsuya a private goodbye kiss, long but never as long as Tatsuya wants it to be.


End file.
